SalvationA Story by Aurafiex A hero awakens. But what then? The legends
speak of a slumbering entity within an ancient shrine destined to awaken when
mankind was in danger. Of course, such stories were merely forgotten tales from
an archaic age, lost to the vagaries of time. The purpose of
the shrine had been warped over time to become a place of worship for the local
religion, complete with a magnificent temple and pious priests dedicated to its
new purpose. Led by these holy men, the locals sacrificed men and women every
decade to please their perceived god. Concerns of cruelty and immorality
regarding such practices were cast aside as trivialities by year after year of
ripe, golden fields of corn, fattened cattle and profitable trade. Prosperous
indeed were the people of this hamlet, such that no one was ever destitute or
hungry. One day
however, everything changed. Initially, the news was held with disbelief, that
raiders had destroyed the coastal villages of the kingdom. However, rumour
eventually turned to truth when trade stopped entirely and battered refugees
arrived at their gates bearing grim tales of men with glassy, bubbly eyes and
webbed feet whom possessed armoured scales impervious to sword and arrow. The
invaders were said to be advancing inland to search for something, and were
leaving nothing but corpses and the stench of rotting fish in their wake. As news of the
impending invasion spread within the hamlet, the people panicked, afraid of
their seemingly inevitable destruction. Demonstrations were held in the town
square, with hordes of villagers petitioning the lord of the estate to save
them. Alas, the lord
who oversaw the hamlet had no way of allaying the people’s fear, being a man of
administration rather than a man of war. Turning to the priesthood, he
beseeched them for a way to quell the fear in the hearts of his subjects.
Unfortunately, they had grown weak from years of generous tithes and lacked the
charisma of their predecessors. However, one
young, headstrong priest rose up in the face of the pandemonium unfolding in
the hamlet. Speaking when all above him remained silent, he preached of the
ancient being that slumbered within the sacred shrine, having spent many years
studying the lore of the land to learn such lost secrets. Rallying the people
to his cause, he promised them salvation from the invaders by summoning the
slumbering ancient to save them so as long as they opened their purses to him. With renewed
vigour, the residents of the hamlet took to the temple, offering increasingly
extravagant tributes of gold and jewels in a bid to summon their saviour.
However, within three days of silence, the people grew restless once more, and
they clamoured at the doors of the temple, demanding answers. When words alone
were insufficient, they demanded the blood of the young priest. At his wits
end, the young man decided to bring forward the sacrificial rituals that
happened every decade, hoping that bloodshed would abate the anger of the
townsfolk. At his decree, lots were drawn, and blood was shed upon the ancient
shrine over the following week. Despite this, their saviour remained silent,
still deaf to their pleas. Worse still, news had reached the worried ears of
the villagers that the army of fishmen were soon to arrive, worsening the
tensions already festering within the hamlet. Desperate for
salvation, the blood sacrifices grew even more violent and fervent, to the
point that the once pristine and well-kept shrine was bathed in blood and gristle.
Yet, despite the seemingly endless flow of blood that was shed in their
saviour's name, the villagers' pleas were still met with silence. It was almost
as though they had been abandoned, left to die by the cruel hand of fate.
Still, the sacrifices continued, for violence and paranoia had yet to claim
their due, the rituals becoming little more than public lynchings for
opportunistic individuals looking to remove hated rivals. Even the young priest
himself was not spared, his body mutilated and flung before the bloody shrine,
a cruel irony borne from the machinations of his fellow clergymen. On the eve of
the invasion, where the night sky rang with gurgling cries and the air stung
with the stench of rotting fish, a blue haired lady with golden eyes emerged
from the blood soaked granite. Dressed in opulent robes of white and gold and
wielding a staff made entirely out of carved obsidian, she claimed the name
Leviathan for herself. The remaining
residents of the hamlet, having just slain one of their own in her name, all
knelt down and beseeched their saviour to deliver them from their seemingly
inevitable destruction. It was also at this very moment that the fishmen
arrived in full force, weapons at the ready to destroy and plunder. But they
too stood in awe before Leviathan, perhaps afraid to attack the villagers lest
she unleash her wrath upon them. However, hope
turned to despair when their saviour beckoned to the leering fishmen, her lips
letting out a single, grave proclamation that destroyed what hope the people
had left.
“Make an example of them, that all shall hear of
MY arrival!” © 2016 AurafiexAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
StatsAuthor
AurafiexSingaporeAboutHi! I enjoy World of Warcraft, music and swimming. I'm someone who writes for fun. Pardon any typos or mistakes, because I write on my phone(lol). I'm new here, so if you like what you see do.. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
